


i hope that you won't slip away in the night

by louistomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Ice Skating, Light Angst, M/M, Prince Louis Tomlinson, Singer Harry Styles, kind of?, we all know i've never written angst in my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistomlinsons/pseuds/louistomlinsons
Summary: He turns back to Maybe Jessica. “Who’s going to be here?”“Harry Styles,” she says. “The one-”“I know who he is,” Louis snaps. “Who invited him?”“Uh, you did, sir.”Louis didn’t think that was serious. When he had responded to Harry’s cheeky tweet about the gala with his own cheeky ‘You should come - I’ll put you on the guest list’ he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Least of all for Harry to show up.or the one where louis is a prince and harry is a popstar
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 37
Kudos: 647
Collections: HL Royalty Fic Fest 2019/20





	i hope that you won't slip away in the night

**Author's Note:**

> i'm from the midwest in the us of a. i know nothing about the british royal family. i know only what my google searches have told me. a suspension of disbelief is not only encouraged for this, but almost required. if anything is super glaringly wrong, let me know!! otherwise just pretend it's true

“Do you ever wish you could burn all of your ties? Mine are so boring compared to yours.”

Liam meets Louis’ eyes in the mirror, both smirking as they do up their ties. 

“You would rather wear squirrels?”

“On my tie, yeah.” Louis finishes the knot and smoothes his hands down the front of his stomach. “Do I look okay?”

“You look incredible, obviously,” Liam says. “You’re wearing all-black. Everyone looks good in all-black.”

“Oh, nice.” Louis snorts, pulling an unattractive grimace. His mother would smack him if she could see. “I look good because only an idiot could mess this outfit up.”

“Exactly, you get it.” Liam gives him a half-smile and claps him on the back. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be to kiss ass.” Louis sighs and takes one last look at himself in the mirror. He won’t deny that the all-black suit _does_ make him look good, but he allows himself to feel longing for the colorful looks he wishes to wear. Turning away from the mirror, he plasters on a fake smile. He braces himself for the chaos behind the door, and gives Liam the ‘go ahead’ nod.

Liam swings the door open and immediately a million people are in their faces, talking as quickly as they can, each one louder than the next, just trying to get their point across. Louis wants to shut the door and go back inside, strip himself of the suffocating clothes, and just have a night in. 

“Do you want the scoop on who’s going to be there?” one of the members of the entourage asks him directly. “So you’re prepared?”

Louis drowns out the rest of the noise to turn to her. He thinks her name is Jessica. 

“Yes, who’s waiting for me?” he asks. He wants to pat himself on the back, how easily he’s gone and made it sound like he genuinely cares. “And what are they waiting for? To tear me from limb to limb? To steal my fortune? Do tell.”

He can spot the barely concealed eye roll in the way her lip twitches. 

“Just some important people will be there. Wouldn’t you like to be prepared to schmooze?”

“I don’t need to schmooze,” he says, ghost of a smile on his lips. “I’m the Prince of Wales. People should be schmoozing me.”

“Right.” She nods, and this time she doesn’t try to conceal her eye roll. “It’s not just the same stuffy old men you usually have to suck up to. This is a charity people are really passionate about. There’s going to be some A-list celebrities.”

“And you think A-list celebrities don’t want to kiss my ass?” Louis’ just giving her a hard time at this point.

“Sir, please.” She sounds so exasperated that Louis decides maybe he’ll cut her a break.

“Alright, alright. Who’s going to be there?”

She slows down, hanging back while the rest of the group passes them. He’s surprised by their ability to slip through, when he’s the one that they’re supposed to be watching over. Only Liam remains back, on duty even when Louis’ given him the night off.

“Liam, where’s the on duty bodyguard?” he asks, brows furrowed. 

“I told him to go forward,” Liam answers. “Even off duty I can’t help myself.”

Louis doesn’t waste his breath scolding the man. Liam came to them almost three years ago, looking bright eyed and like he’d never be able to protect Louis from a butterfly let alone an actual threat. Now, three years later, he’s got hardened lines, hollow eyes, and has saved Louis’ life more times than either of them can count. 

He turns back to Maybe Jessica. “Who’s going to be here?”

“Harry Styles,” she says. “The one-”

“I know who he is,” Louis snaps. “Who invited him?”

“Uh, you did, sir.”

Louis didn’t think that was _serious_ . When he had responded to Harry’s cheeky tweet about the gala with his own cheeky ‘You should come - I’ll put you on the guest list’ he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Least of all for Harry to _show up_.

He feels his face start to burn red, cheeks flaming as his mind races with _all_ of the cheeky tweets they’ve been sending each other. The cheeky DM’s turned cheeky text messages. The lectures he’s gotten from his publicity team to tone it down. The way he’s done the opposite of tone it down. Harry hadn’t even said anything when they’d been texting earlier. The _bastard_.

“Oh _god_.” 

“Sir, are you okay?” Maybe Jessica asks him. Her eyes widen in concern. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“I think I might be,” he whispers. 

He blinks tightly and shakes his head, sure this is all a dream and he’ll come to at the start of the day. Realizing everyone is still standing there and waiting for him to say something, he straightens up and claps his hands together, noise booming through the hallway. “Well, what is everyone just standing around for? We’ve got money to raise.”

Maybe Jessica continues briefing him on the important people, the ones Louis’ really going to want to schmooze, but he’s barely listening. Each word feels like it’s going in one ear, skipping over his brain, and out the next. It grows even harder to concentrate when he notices Liam’s concerned glances from his side.

Fully ignoring Maybe Jessica at this point, Louis whispers, “You don’t need to be worried.”

“I’m not.” Liam doesn’t dart his eyes from where they’re pointed towards the hallway in front of them. If a passerby was just glancing at them, one might not even know they were having a conversation. “You just seemed a little shocked about the whole Harry Styles thing. Do you want me to remove him?”

“And how would that look? Imagine the headlines if we had the most famous popstar in the world removed from a royal charity gala.”

“It’d be one hell of a story to tell,” Liam chuckles, covering it up with a cough. “Your publicity team would shit themselves.”

“Could be fun,” Louis says. “Maybe Jessica could get the stick out of her arse.”

“Jessica?” Liam sounds confused, and Louis realizes that probably isn’t her name. “Are you talking about Lisa?”

“Um-”

They’ve been caught, Lisa (formerly known as Maybe Jessica) spinning around on her heels to glare pointedly at them. “When you offend someone tonight because you weren’t listening to anything I said, I won’t feel bad for you.” She huffs, turns around, and continues walking. Liam and Louis barely bite down their laughter, smiles cracking through the stone facade.

“Have fun tonight, Lou,” Liam says, hint of teasing in his voice. He knows how much Louis hates events like these, all show and glitz and glamor. He much prefers the private visits to the children’s hospital and the football charity matches and the quieter events. This is much more his sisters’ kind of thing, the loudness and showiness of it all. 

“You know I won’t,” Louis replies, just barely fighting back the eye roll. “Let’s see how often I’ll be able to sneak away and do a shot with you in the corner.”

“I can’t imagine very often,” Liam laughs. “But I’ll always have a shot in my hand for when you find me.”

It was a good move hiring Liam, Louis thinks.

He lines up outside the double doors to the ballroom. His two oldest sisters line up behind him, and he wishes they could all just walk in together. He’s been royal as long as he’s been alive - obviously - and still doesn’t understand half the rules or why they do things such a particular way. He just says a ‘thank you’ prayer that his mother decided to skip out on the event, as having the Queen around only seems to complicate things even further. 

The double doors open, revealing the crowd standing around in anticipation. Louis wishes he could just ignore all of them, but unfortunately he greets every single person until he reaches his seat. He hears his sisters behind him, doing the same. From there, it’s a whirlwind of everyone sitting down and forcing small talk while they wait to get the show on the road. 

Halfway through the second speech, Louis is _bored_. Every event like this is the same. Tons of speeches arse-kissing everyone important in the room, bland food, and then even more forced smalltalk the rest of the night. Just once, he’d like them to spice it up. 

As predicted, the food is bland. He’s sure they had the same exact meal at the last gala they attended, but maybe everything was just blurring together in his mind. It was all so boring, what did it matter anyway?

Once dinner was finished and cleared, it was encouraged to go and mingle and chat with the guests in attendance. Louis had to mentally prepare himself for the horrendously boring conversations he was about to smile his way through. If he thought back to the beginning of being forced to attend events like this, he wasn’t sure he could think of a single interesting conversation.

“You look like you’re having an excellent time.”

If he weren’t perfectly trained in the art of staying poised, Louis would have jumped ten feet in the air.

“Is that any way to greet a royal?” he asks, carefully turning around, hand over his racing heart.

“Sorry, some of us never learned all the royal etiquette rules,” Harry Styles apologizes, mouth quirking and not looking all that apologetic. “It’s so hard to keep them all straight.”

“Don’t I know it,” Louis snorts. 

“Are you supposed to snort? Doesn’t seem very ladylike.”

“Well, I’m not a lady.”

Harry laughs at this, skin crinkling by his eyes and dimples set so deep in his cheeks Louis thinks he would be able to drown in them. “That you aren’t.”

“Is this everything you thought it would be?” Louis asks. His voice is surprisingly even for someone whose hands are shaking and heart is thumping so loudly he can hear it in his ears. 

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.” Louis nods, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m bored to tears.”

Louis wishes he could say he didn’t, but he snorts. He can’t even attempt to control the laughter bubbling from his chest, one hand coming up to rest on his stomach while the other covers his mouth. Harry joins him, laughter so loud a few people around them turn to glare in their direction. They don’t seem to care that it’s the world’s biggest popstar and Prince of Wales causing the commotion.

“You and me both, mate,” Louis agrees. “I come to at least one of these a month, and I’ve never enjoyed a single one.”

“Well, let’s see if we can change that.” Harry’s smile turns flirtatious and Louis remembers why he had been so hesitant about Harry being here in the first place.

“Harry,” he says, voice turning quiet as he darts his eyes around to see if anyone is still looking at them. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what, Louis?” Harry’s eyes are a challenge as he waits for Louis to respond.

“It’s different when we’re just tweeting at each other. Just a bit of friendly male banter.”

“Is it friendly male banter when you text me at three in the morning that you want to kiss me?”

“Well-” Louis starts.

“Is it friendly male banter when you ask me to send you a picture of my outfit before I go on stage every night? When we fall asleep on Facetime together? When you text me all the dirty things you’d like to do to me if we were together?”

Louis grits his teeth and doesn’t say anything.

“I know the predicament you’re in, Louis,” he says, voice softening. “I’m not asking you to makeout with me in the middle of the dancefloor. Which no one is using, by the way. That’s probably the most boring thing about this all. All I’m asking is that you don’t lie to my face and call it ‘friendly male banter’ when you know it’s not.”

“I’d kiss you in the middle of the dancefloor if I could,” Louis admits. 

“You can kiss me in my hotel room later, if you want,” Harry teases. “Is that allowed?”

“Not really, but I can make it happen.” Louis feels his shoulders relaxing, tense moment past them. He grabs two champagne flutes off the passing waiter’s tray. He offers one to Harry with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve heard the stories about you when you get drunk. Maybe someone else will beat me to your hotel room.”

Harry lets out a surprised laugh. “I don’t have eyes for anyone else in the room, so it seems unlikely.”

Louis’ face flames, burning up to his ears. Good to know the way Harry makes him feel over text message are ten times more intense in person. At least when they’re texting he can hide his embarrassing blushes, and it’s too grainy over FaceTime for it to be noticeable. But here, in person, Harry can see exactly the way Louis’ blush spreads over his cheeks and splotches his face. 

“And besides, Lou,” Harry continues. “You should know better than anyone that you can’t believe everything you read in the papers. Those stories about me aren’t true and you know that for a fact because you know _me_.”

Louis knows the truth. He knows Harry isn’t actually going around and sleeping with everyone he’s ever talked to. He doesn’t get sloppy drunk at events and go home with the first person he sees. He isn’t anything like the media has made him out to be. He’s kind, gentle, patient, and caring. Harry is the kind of person who sends Louis a text message at 1:28 in the morning just to say he was thinking about him. He’s authentic and loving and someone that Louis wishes he could be more like.

“No, I know,” Louis says, maintaining an even tone. He plasters a fake smile on his face. “I think I need to go mingle now, but you know Liam?” Harry nods. “Find him at the end of the night and have him bring you to my room. If you want, that is.”

Harry raises his champagne flute in Louis’ direction. “See you tonight, Your Royal Highness.”

Louis scoffs. “Just as cheeky in person, I see.” 

He spares one last eye roll in Harry’s direction before he saunters off to socialize with other important figures in the crowd. 

The rest of the night, Louis can’t quite shake off the unsteady feeling that finally meeting Harry in person has given him. Not a bad unsteady. It’s the kind of unsteady when you receive good news and you’re not quite sure if you can believe it yet. That’s always how Harry’s made him feel; from their first interaction on the royal twitter account to the first FaceTime call to the seventieth to now. Harry makes him feel like he’s one strong wind from falling onto his arse on the floor. 

So many hours pass, he almost forgets that Harry could be waiting for him upstairs in his room. As he’s escorted out by Liam and the rest of security, his nerves start to come back. 

“Are you okay, sir?” Liam asks. He scrunches his eyebrows, eyes worried, watching as Louis wipes his sweaty palms on his dress pants.

“Yeah, fine. Don’t call me sir.” Louis isn’t sure how many times he’s had to remind Liam of that, but it never seems to stick.

“Would you prefer ‘Your Royal Highness’?”

“Just my name is fine, you ass,” Louis says, but it doesn’t come across very sharp when he’s seconds away from passing out.

He wipes his hands on his trousers again.

“You really don’t look good, Lou.” Liam falls back as the rest of the security team continues walking down the hallway. “Is this about Harry?”

“Do you think this is a mistake?” Louis asks. “It’s not too late for me to have the car take me home. He’d understand right?”

Liam shakes his head. “If you back out at this point you owe him an explanation.”

“We’re not dating. I don’t owe him anything.” It doesn’t sound right, even to Louis’ own ears. He and Harry may not have put a label on whatever’s going on between them, but he knows it’s more serious than a few people who have interacted on twitter a few times. He sighs. “I’m going in there.”

“Do you need me to, like, stick around?” Liam asks, half joking. 

“I appreciate it, but no thank you.” Louis waves him off and watches his retreating form down the hallway. Moments after he’s gone, the door to Louis’ hotel room swings open behind him and he jumps in surprise.

“You probably shouldn’t have conversations about someone outside the room they’re in,” Harry says. He’s got a mouthful of some type of food, definitely nothing like the bland shite they had been served downstairs, and that’s all it takes for Louis to feel brave enough to step inside.

“I wasn’t actually going to run,” he promises. 

“I know you weren’t.” 

Harry plops down on the plush looking couch, all but sinking into the cushions. He’s made himself so at home that Louis doesn’t have trouble imagining this in his life for a long time. He’s already even changed into sweatpants and a loose blue t-shirt. The more Louis squints his eyes, he thinks he recognizes it as one of his own t-shirts, one that’s always been too big for him and he wasn’t sure why he was keeping it around.

“I made some tea for you,” Harry says. “Yorkshire. Splash of milk, no sugar.”

Louis pauses, halfway through unbuttoning his shirt, jacket and tie already flung across the room. He quirks an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. “How do you know how I like my tea?”

“All of Great Britain knows how you like your tea,” Harry says matter-of-factly. “That shit’s public knowledge.”

“The same way your four nipples are public knowledge?”

“Exactly. You get it.”

Louis snorts under his breath and finishes unbuttoning his dress shirt. He slips it from his shoulders, watching as it falls to his feet. He goes for his belt and then remembers he’s not alone. He looks up in Harry’s direction once again and notices he’s being watched.

“You’re not very subtle with your staring, you know that?” Louis teases. Deciding not to remove his belt and trousers just yet, he strides over to the half open closet. He fishes around until he finds exactly the shirt he’s looking for and grabs a random pair of grey sweatpants. He turns back around to his visitor. “Some privacy, please?”

“Of course,” Harry promises. He places a hand over his eyes, cracking his middle and ring finger so he can peak out of them. 

Louis doesn’t even bother saying anything. He sighs, rolls his eyes, and fights back a smile. He’s not sure how anyone in the world could hate Harry Styles. He hastily changes, hyper aware of his audience, and collapses in the armchair placed next to the couch.

“Love the shirt,” Harry says cockily. 

“Of course you do,” Louis huffs. 

It’s his favorite shirt. Harry’s tour shirt is the softest of all his tee’s, worn and way too big, one of the best hand me downs he’s ever been gifted. He can’t wear it in public, but he sleeps in it almost every night. Harry’s never seen him wear it, and it’s worth it for the smile threatening to break his face now. 

“You look good in my clothes.”

“You’re a lot more possessive than I thought you would be,” Louis says. 

“How can you tell I’m possessive?”

“You gave me some of your merch that you had previously worn as opposed to the brand new t-shirts every one else was getting from you. It’s got your name on it. And somehow, that’s what’s giving you a boner right now.” Louis raises an eyebrow, hoping it comes across as a ‘tell me I’m wrong’ kind of thing rather than anything else.

“I don’t have a boner right now,” Harry defends.

“Right.” Louis snorts, kicking a foot out in Harry’s direction. “I like seeing you as the flustered one for once. I feel like I’m always the one making a fool of myself.”

“Nah,” Harry says. “I think you’re so used to having to be perfect all the time, what with being a prince and all, that you’re not used to being allowed to make mistakes in front of people. It’s weird for you to feel like you can let your guard down and be yourself.”

For as much as Louis knows that Harry knows him, Louis forgets that Harry _knows_ him.

Harry sits up from his lying position, shuffling to the end of the couch until his knees are touching Louis’. “Maybe I make you nervous, I’ll give you that, but you’re just not used to being seen as a _real_ person.”

Louis takes a deep breath in, not realizing how shaky he actually is. “I wish you wouldn’t say such wildly inaccurate things,” he jokes. 

“Can I kiss you?” Harry asks, breathless. 

Louis doesn’t remember nodding, but he must because Harry leans in and connects their lips, softly and without urgency. To Louis, it feels like they’ve been doing this forever, but also like they’ve never done it before. It’s familiar and new and breathtaking and comforting. Their lips slip softly against each other, a gentle push and pull with a slow fire burning underneath the surface.

Finally, Harry pulls away, breathless with rosy cheeks. He keeps his forehead pressed against Louis’.

“I feel like we’ve done that before,” he says, only slightly sounding like he’s kidding. “And I really want to do it forever.”

“Bit soon for forever isn’t it?” Louis wants to say he keeps his voice even, nonchalant, but there’s something about Harry that has him trembling.

“When you know, you know. Isn’t that what people always say?”

“I should kick your arse,” Louis laughs. “You know how pretentious you sound right now?”

“Pretentious enough to keep kissing a prince?”

“Hmm,” Louis hums. “Only if you promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” Harry says, eyes wide and face going serious. Louis can tell he means it.

“Don’t treat me differently.” Louis watches Harry’s face for anything he might be thinking. He must be good at poker, though, because his face gives away nothing. “I’m not a prince when I’m with you - I’m just Louis.”

Harry nods. “Like I said - anything. I’ve been waiting for a while to hold you like this. I’m not going to mess it up now.”

“Do you think they got any photos of us together tonight?” Louis asks. He motions for Harry to scoot over and make room for him on the couch and plops down next to him with a heavy sigh. “I want this to be our little secret for just a little longer.”

“Does this mean I should stop tweeting you flirty things?” Harry teases. He wraps his arm around Louis’ shoulder, letting his fingers dance underneath Louis’ short sleeves and tickle the exposed skin.

“I remember when you asked me that after you texted me for the first time.” Louis laughs, remembering how nervous he had been to give Harry his number. He hadn’t been exactly sure what he wanted at the time, but it’s pretty clear to him now, almost a year later.

Harry blows a laugh out underneath his breath. “I was so worried about texting you. You weren’t - and still aren’t, I know - out publicly. And you weren’t even out to me. I only knew what I could pick up through the few private messages you sent me on twitter.”

Louis bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too widely. He knows he’s setting them both up for heartbreak; there’s no way this can even expand past sneaking into each other’s hotel rooms and the friendly tweet at one another every now and then. But Louis can’t really find it in himself to care that much. If this is only going to end in heartbreak, he’s going to enjoy it while he can.

“Good thing you read so well between the lines,” Louis jokes. 

“Mm,” Harry hums, eyes half-closed. 

Louis laughs quietly, taking in Harry’s side profile. Louis pinches his side, listening to Harry’s quiet noise of protest. Louis stands, reaching a hand to pull Harry up with him. “Time for bed, darling.”

Harry stumbles to the bed, collapsing on top of the covers and pulling Louis down with him. He easily wraps Louis’ arms around his waist and falls into the little spoon position.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you liked to be the little spoon,” Louis whispers into the soft skin of his neck. Despite the height difference, they fit comfortably together. It should be awkward, sleeping next to someone he technically just met, but instead it feels _right_. 

“I would never joke about something so serious,” Harry replies, words slurring together as he drifts off into sleep.

Louis suppresses another laugh and presses a gentle kiss to the place where Harry’s neck meets his shoulder. He sighs, content, and allows himself to drift off, Harry’s snores lulling him to sleep.

* * *

“So all you guys did was sleep?” Liam asks, not for the first time. 

“Yes.” Louis nods, stirring his cup of tea. It’s his favorite kind, made exactly the way he likes, but it doesn’t seem appetizing to him this morning. Maybe it’s got something to do with the way Harry had to leave in a rush, off to Los Angeles for something probably important, but Louis is going to pretend that’s not it. He’s not going to be feeling sad over a man he spent one night with.

“And a little kiss,” he adds. “Nothing too saucy.”

“Wow.” Liam sits back in his seat, leaning away from the small table. He’d brought them both breakfast, knocking politely before entering, something he almost never does. It had definitely been because he thought there might be some naked bodies behind the hotel door, and he’d been burned one too many times before. “You really like him, then?”

“Maybe,” Louis admits with a shrug. He tries to sound casual.

Of course, Liam knows him too well.

“When are you seeing him again?” he asks. 

“We didn’t talk about it.”

“You didn’t?”

“Oi, don’t sound so disappointed,” Louis says, pursing his lips and furrowing his eyebrows. He didn’t want to seem desperate, asking Harry about when they could see each other again as he rushed out the door, almost late for his flight. He was going to wait three days, like he thought he was supposed to. “I’ll text him in a few days and see if he’s even interested in hanging out again.”

“A few days? Why not text him now and then he’ll have something nice to see when he lands in LA?”

“No, I don’t think-” Louis pauses. He squints at Liam across the table. “How did you know he’s going to LA?”

“You think I don’t know his schedule for the next three months?” Liam asks, rhetorical, one eyebrow raised as he takes a sip of his own tea. “Who do you think I am?”

“You’re so creepy,” Louis says, only half meaning it. “I bet he doesn’t even know what he’s doing for the next three months.”

“Probably not.” Liam smiles and then shrugs. “He’s got an album coming out.”

“You’re so weird!” Louis throws a sugar cube at his friend, laughing and ducking as Liam lobs one back. It’s nice to have someone around who doesn’t treat him like glass. All the other members of his security detail act like he’s too fragile to goof around with. It’s refreshing whenever Liam’s the one watching over him because even though he’s protecting Louis and is always on edge, he doesn’t let it show through in their relationship.

“So, you don’t want to talk about it?” Liam asks, face turning serious. “Because I’m always here to talk to you about it if you want.”

“No, I don’t think I want to talk about it,” Louis says. “Not yet, at least.”

“Well, that actually works out well because we’ve got to get you moving for the day.” Liam stands from the table and gestures towards the bed where Louis’ laid out his clothes for the day. “Get dressed and meet me downstairs in fifteen. We’ve got to get this show on the road, mate.”

Louis snorts and watches the door click shut. Liam’s just so weird, he thinks to himself. 

But in a good way.

* * *

_Can you FaceTime tonight?_

Louis watches the message flash across his screen, phone sitting on the table face up. It’s from Harry, and everyone sitting around can see that, emphasized especially by the bright emojis next to his name.

“Lou, I’ve been meaning to ask,” his mother starts, one eyebrow quirked. “What’s going on with you and this Harry lad? Is there something we need to talk about?”

Louis shakes his head. “No, nothing to talk about. Casual thing. He signed an NDA or whatever. Liam made sure of all that. We’re just having a bit of fun.”

She purses her lips and raises her eyebrows, looking a bit displeased with his answer. Louis’ not too sure where she stands on the whole ‘gay prince’ thing because he hadn’t really come out by choice. She’d busted in on him and one of his mates snogging back when he was still in school, and they hadn’t really talked about it. So far, she’s seemed accepting of it on the surface level, but he knows she worries about what the future has in store for him and the family. 

He’s pretty sure neither one of them are ready for that conversation.

“Promise it won’t cause problems,” he mumbles, uncomfortable under her stare. He wishes that just once he could understand what she was thinking. “Anyway, I’ve had a great time today learning about all the new ways to continue doing exactly what we did before, but I really must be going.”

“Louis-“ His mother starts to call after him, but he doesn’t give her a chance to say anything else as he stands from the table and excuses himself from the room. Liam is standing guard outside the door and shoots him a concerned glance, but Louis just waves him off. 

“You don’t have to follow me,” he says. “Stay here and watch after everyone else. I’m taking the car back to my place. I just kind of want to be alone for the rest of the evening.”

“As you wish.” Liam nods, but the concerned expression never quite leaves his eyes.

“You’re so formal all the time,” Louis snorts, doing his best to ease the tension floating in the air. “I promise you don’t have to worry about me. See you tomorrow.”

He climbs into the black SUV, letting his driver know just take him back to his usual residence, and he settles in for the drive. He feels his phone buzz again and pulls it out, reminded that he needs to answer Harry’s text message.

_Are you free in thirty?_ he sends. The response is almost immediate, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

_For you I’m free whenever._

Louis wants to hate it, wants to squirm at just how cheesy it is, but he can’t help it. He kind of loves it.

When they pull into the drive of his home, a feeling of loneliness settles in the pit of his stomach. It’s too big for just one person. Or two people. Or seventeen people. It’s just too big, in his opinion. It feels too empty, and no one ever comes over to make it feel just a little bit less empty.

Inside, his dog Clifford is asleep in his dog bed near one of the large windows. He perks his head up and wags his tail when he notices Louis’ come home, but doesn’t bother getting up to greet him. He must be tired from his long day of doing nothing, Louis thinks to himself with a laugh. Sometimes, he can’t get Cliff to stop running around even after they’ve gone on multiple walks, and sometimes, like today, he doesn’t want to do anything except watch the birds out the window. 

Just as soon as he’s slipped his shoes off his feet, his phone is buzzing in his hand. He sees a selfie of Harry light up across his screen and barely bites back the smile that threatens to split his face.

“Couldn’t wait a second longer, huh?” Louis teases when he answers the call. He pads into the kitchen, thinking of what to make himself for lunch. He gives his staff the weekends off - save for the guards posted at the front gates - and sometimes it’s nice to be able to do things he wants to do. And what he wants to do is make a shit ton of pasta and eat it in front of his telly while he watches some dumb made for TV movie. 

“I think my heart would have collapsed if I had to wait just a breath longer to see your face,” Harry says dramatically, voice airy. “How’s your day been?”

“Mm,” Louis hums. “So-so. Just how it is every day, I guess. Not a whole lot of excitement.”

“No?” Harry asks, curious. “There’s not enough excitement being the Prince of Wales?”

“Oh, shut up, asshole,” Louis says, but he’s laughing as he fills his pot with water. He sets it on the stove to boil while he pulls out the ingredients he needs to make a basic pasta dish. Noodles, sauce, salt...he’s going through the list in his head when Harry clears his throat over the phone.

“You can’t cook,” he says. Louis glares at the screen, phone precariously propped up against a vase of flowers. Harry doesn’t seem too intimidated by the stare down. 

“Not sure what you mean,” Louis huffs.

“You told me! You admitted to me that you can’t cook.”

“And you can?”

“Yes,” Harry admits. “I’m actually very good.”

“Well, too bad you’re in LA and can’t make me a carb loaded dinner.”

“Actually, I landed back in London this morning, if you kept up with the update accounts,” Harry says through a laugh. “Would you like to come over and have dinner with me tonight?”

Louis feels his cheeks flare. Does he? Absolutely. Should he? Maybe not. Having an intimate dinner prepared by Harry in his surely beautiful home is definitely not going to keep things from getting complicated, but one look at Harry’s hopeful face is enough to have Louis saying ‘fuck it.’

“What time should I come over?” he asks, shoulders slumping in defeat. How is he ever going to keep things at the casual level when Harry looks at him like that? How’s he ever supposed to let this end when he’s kind of thinking that he wouldn’t mind Harry cooking him dinner every night?

“Give me an hour,” Harry says. “Wear stretchy pants because we’re going to be eating plenty of carbs tonight.”

“Sounds sexy,” Louis says, chuckling under his breath. “Alright, I’ll give you an hour. I will wear my least unsexy stretchy pants and a shirt I don’t mind getting pasta sauce stains down the front of.”

“I couldn’t think of anything more perfect for you to wear.” And before Louis can even say goodbye, Harry’s ended the call.

He rolls his eyes and thinks about just how _weird_ Harry is, and tries not to think about how much he likes it. That line of thinking only leads to broken hearts.

Louis follows through on his word and puts on worn grey sweatpants. There’s even a hole in one of the pockets that he discovers when he tries to set his phone there and it just falls through to the ground. He doesn’t even look at the sweatshirt he grabs from the top of the clean laundry pile, thrown recklessly on to a chair in the corner of his room. He has to remember to put it away before Monday morning so none of his staff feels obligated to do it for him. He tries not to create any extra work for them to do if he can help it. 

Louis climbs into his car, an over the top black SUV decked out in a billion ways to protect him that he doesn’t even have any idea about. The GPS starts yelling directions at him as soon he inputs Harry’s address, only a twenty-minute drive from his own residence. 

While having never been to Harry’s place before, he can only imagine what it looks like. The man’s probably got it decorated in his numerous awards, plants hanging everywhere that he pays someone else to watch after. He’s definitely got a cat named something weird. There’s got to be at least one thing in his living room that Louis can’t conjure an explanation for, and Harry will say it’s a conversation starter.

He tries to ignore the way he seems to know Harry so well, and what that means for the whole ‘keeping their relationship from getting complicated.’

The closer he drives to Harry’s place, the sweatier Louis’ palms become. He wipes one his sweatpants, but it doesn’t seem to help much, so he doesn’t bother with the other one. Who’s he trying to impress?

(Harry.)

The place is easy enough to find, and he rings the buzzer by the gate when he pulls into the drive. It takes Harry less than fifteen seconds to let him through, and Louis bites back a smile. He makes his way down the driveway, parking behind what he assumes is one of Harry’s cars. Louis knows from plenty of articles he’s read (and would never admit to reading) that Harry has a thing for nice cars.

Harry is standing in the doorway as he climbs out, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, and Louis thinks that maybe one person shouldn’t be allowed to look so good. 

“Have you been waiting patiently for my arrival?” Louis calls out, trying to mask his nerves as he approaches the door. He comes to a stop in front of Harry and kind of wants to punch (kiss) the smug look off of his face.

“It’s not everyday royalty comes over,” Harry answers. “Or ever, actually. Now come here.” He reaches out for Louis’ waist, pulling him closer with one hand resting on his hip and the other coming up to cradle his face. Before Louis can even process what’s happening, Harry is pulling him in for a kiss.

Realistically, Louis knows no one can see them. There’s privacy hedges and gates and fences and they’re so far back from the road it’s laughable that he’s even worried about it, but he can’t stop the way his shoulders tense.

Harry pulls back with a worried look on his face. “Sorry, I forget.”

“Forget?” Louis raises an eyebrow, hoping for nonchalant. Like he doesn’t know exactly what Harry’s referring to.

“You don’t have the same freedoms I do,” he says. He takes a step backwards into the home, beckoning Louis to follow him. 

Once inside, Louis pulls the door shut and steps into Harry’s space. He doesn’t bother with a response before he’s grabbing Harry by the waist and dragging him back into his space again, lips connecting. Louis isn’t sure which one of them gasps.

He can’t stop himself from pushing Harry’s lips open with his own and pushing his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. At first, Harry just lets him, pliant as he lets Louis taketaketake, but then he gasps into Louis’ mouth and steps backwards.

“Something wrong?” Louis asks, unsure if he overstepped a boundary.

“No, no. Definitely not.” Harry sounds breathless, cheeks flushed. “Just. If you keep kissing me like that, then dinner will get cold.”

“Dinner. Right,” Louis says slowly. “Lead the way, then.”

Harry leads them down the hallway as Louis takes in the scenery around him. There’s pictures upon pictures lining the walls, and Harry isn’t in all of them but Louis can assume they’re all people who mean a lot to him. Some of them are blurry or horrible angles, but it doesn’t seem like it matters to Harry - he’s hung them up anyway.

They walk past an awards case at the end of the hall and Louis stifles his grin. He knew Harry would place them where everyone had to see them. He should have made a Bingo card - or a drinking game.

The hallway opens into a spacious room that seems to work as a combined living room, dining room, and kitchen area. With how big the place is from the outside, Louis makes the assumption this can’t be the only one of each of these rooms in the house, but having this combination area placed here makes it feel cozier. Louis sees why it’s set up like this.

The faded blue couch has numerous blankets haphazardly thrown upon it, throw pillows chucked to the floor. The coffee table definitely has its best years behind it, and it’s littered with notebooks and an empty coffee cup. There’s no television, and instead the couch faces a wall made almost entirely of windows, overlooking Harry’s too large backyard.

“Why do you have a pool in London?” Louis asks. “I think it’s swimming weather for all sixteen days a year.”

“It came with the house.” Harry shrugs. “Are you quite done judging me by my house yet?”

“Not quite,” Louis answers. “Where’s your cat?”

Harry gives him a strange look, wrinkling his eyebrows and recoiling like Louis’ threatened to throw something at him. “I don’t have a cat.”

Louis hums. “Seems out of character for you.”

“I do have a dog named Ringo, though.”

“Ah, of course you do.” Louis says it with a laugh. “That’s on brand for you, I think.”

“Are we going to eat anytime soon or are you going to continue making fun of me?” Harry asks, but there’s no heat behind it. If anything, he seems like he’s enjoying it. 

“Depends,” Louis says. “What did you make me?”

“Baked ziti.”

“Then why the fuck are we still standing here?”

Harry throws his head back and laughs, and Louis wants to bottle the sound to take with him when he leaves. When this whole thing has to end, that’s one of the things he thinks he may miss the most.

“Good question. Come sit, Lou.”

Louis does just that, taking a seat in one of the chairs at the dining room table. Like all of the other furniture in the room, it seems worn in. Like Harry may not be the first owner.

They scoop the pasta into their plate, and judging by looks and smell alone, Louis knows it’s delicious. Harry’s bragged about his abilities in the kitchen before, but Louis’ finally able to judge him. 

“Harry,” Louis says.

“Yes?” He pauses, fork halfway between the plate and his mouth. “Something wrong?”

“How would you like to come cook for me all the time?” 

Harry snorts through his nose and shoves the fork of pasta into his mouth. He swallows it all before answering, “Are you going to break the news to my fans? They’re feisty.”

“I’m aware,” Louis says. “I’ve seen some of the tweets where they defend your honor.”

“They’re the best people in the world.” And Harry means it. There’s no hint of joking or teasing on his face, eyes sincere. 

“Makes sense.” Louis pushes the final scraps of the ziti around on his plate. “You’re one of the best people in this world, so it would only make sense that you would attract the best fans.”

“Don’t go saying things like that, Lou,” Harry says, voice hinting at lighthearted but eyes begging. “You’ll break my heart.”

Louis decides he needs to change the topic. “So what’s a star like you doing with used furniture?”

“It’s sustainable,” Harry answers, without missing a beat.

“Right.” Louis nods. “Makes sense.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I believe that it is more sustainable to buy secondhand for most things, but I don’t believe that’s what you did.”

“So you’re calling me a liar.” Harry says it like a fact, but with a little laugh so Louis knows he’s not too offended.

“Oh absolutely.” Louis gives another sharp nod, pursing his lips. “I don’t think you’ve told the truth about anything ever.”

“Bold.” Harry can’t stop himself from laughing now, eyes closing and smiling so wide Louis thinks he can see all of his teeth. He catches his breath before explaining, “It’s the furniture from my home. Like. From the home I grew up in.”

“That seems more like it,” Louis concedes. “Much more...you.”

“Yeah.” Harry shrugs. “My mom moved into a smaller apartment when Gemma and I both left. She said she didn’t want all that space, even when I offered to pay for it. I couldn’t watch her get rid of the furniture, so I took it.” He takes a deep breath, letting out a weighted sigh. “I learned how to play guitar on that couch. I did my maths homework on this table.”

“Doing my maths homework isn’t exactly something I think I want to remember, but I get it.”

“It’s not the maths homework, specifically.”

“No, I know.” Louis reaches across the table and grabs Harry’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m teasing.”

“I normally bring people in through the other door. This side of the house is basically disconnected from the other side. It’s like having two different houses in one,” Harry explains. “It feels too intimate, I guess, to let most people see this half. This is the side I spend most of my time on, anyway. The other side is all white and clean and not really me.”

“You are a man of mysteries, Harry Styles,” Louis breathes out. 

Harry shrugs, like he doesn’t rock Louis’ world every second they spend together and most of the time they spend apart.

“Are you trying to watch Mamma Mia with me?” Harry asks, effectively changing the subject.

Louis’ going to fall asleep in Harry’s bed. 

He should definitely not do that, but he’s accepting his fate.

Except. Someone is murmuring “Lou” in his ear and shaking him, effectively making it impossible for him to drift off into sleep.

“Lou, babe.”

“Harry, let me go to sleep,” Louis mumbles, words slurring together.

“I will do no such thing,” Harry answers, giving him a final shove. Louis jolts awake, darting his eyes over to Harry on the other side of the bed, giving him his best glare. “Are you allowed to stay the night here?”

“Harry _what_?”

“Like.” Harry looks sheepish. “Are you allowed to stay the night here?”

“Harry, I’m an adult.”

“An adult who has to follow a lot of rules.”

“ _Harry_.”

“I just wanted to make sure that was allowed before I let you fall asleep and you woke up really mad at me. That’s all,” he says. “You can go back to sleep now.”

“Well now I’m not tired and instead I kind of want to make out with you because you’re so cute,” Louis says. He reaches out a hand to grab Harry around the waist and pull him closer. “C’mere.”

Louis rolls over on to his back to let Harry fit between his legs. Harry leans in, warm breath fanning over Louis’s face before he closes the gap, connecting their lips. Just like their previous kisses, Louis melts into it, body turning into jelly as Harry uses one arm to prop himself up and uses his free hand to cup at Louis' jaw.

Harry pulls away, breathless, lips red and shiny. Louis can see the thoughts churning inside his head.

“What are you thinking about, Curly?” he asks. He reaches a hand up to stroke his thumb against Harry’s cheek.

“Just thinking about how you’re gonna break my heart.”

Louis doesn’t have an answer. They both know it’s true. He’s glad Harry knows this can’t last. It’ll make it just a little easier.

Instead of a response, Louis just pulls him in for another kiss, trying to stop both of them from thinking about it. 

It works well enough.

Harry licks into his mouth, and Louis doesn’t know why he whines, but he can’t stop himself from doing that and pushing his body up into Harry. He moves his hand from Harry’s cheek to tangle in his hair, using it to pull him even closer, if possible.

Harry just goes with it, pliant, allowing himself to be pulled around by his hair.

They break away to catch their breath, but that doesn’t stop Harry from sitting back and pushing Louis’ shirt up until it’s rucked up under his armpits. He uses his thumbs to rub against Louis’ nipples, biting his lip as he watches Louis’ back arch. Louis doesn’t even try to stop the noises from coming out of his mouth. 

“Is this okay? That I’m doing this?” Harry asks, slowing his movements but not stopping completely. 

“Yes, yes, more,” Louis begs, wrapping his legs tighter around Harry. 

Harry doesn’t hesitate, pinching one of his nipples with one hand and leaning down to suck on the other, using his teeth to bite lightly. Louis can’t help the gasp that falls from his lips, tightening his fingers in Harry’s hair. Harry continues on like that, alternating between nipples until Louis is begging for him to do _something_.

Harry understands, pulling away and sliding his hands down Louis’ sides until he reaches the waistband of Louis’ sweatpants. 

“This okay?”

Louis nods, unsure of what would come out of his mouth if he tried to speak. 

Louis barely even registers at first the way Harry slips his sweatpants down his thighs until he saying, “Commando?”

“You told me to be comfortable,” Louis manages to say, and Harry laughs, leaning in to give Louis a chaste kiss. 

“And I’m happy I did,” he says and before Louis can even process what’s about to happen, Harry is leaning down and taking him in his mouth.

He starts by suckling at the head, enough time for Louis to realize what’s going on and barely refrain from bucking his hips, before taking Louis all the way in, nose pressed to his abdomen. Louis can feel Harry around him, warm and wet and too much. He can feel Harry’s hot breathing out of his nose on his stomach, barely able to hold himself back from pushing into it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis manages to get out, head thrown back against the pillow. He reaches out until he can tangle his fingers in Harry’s again, not pulling, just grounding himself.

It’s over before it can really begin - once Harry uses his hand to stroke Louis as he bobs his head up and down and sneaks his free hand around to tease a finger around Louis’ hole, he’s done for. He barely manages to give Harry a warning before he’s coming, eyes closed and seeing stars.

Harry pulls off just as Louis hits that ‘too sesntive’ place, and he’s rushing to push his own sweatpants and briefs to his thighs, stroking himself until he’s coming all over Louis’ stomach.

“I would have done that for you,” Louis laughs as Harry collapses against him.

“You were a little too out of it and I was impatient,” Harry answers, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his neck. “Want to shower?”

And something about the exchange makes Louis want to cry (something being the way his heart surges at the idea of this becoming a more permanent thing), but he forces it away and pushes against Harry’s shoulders.

“Lead the way,” he says, and pretends they can stay in this bubble forever.

* * *

“You want to go...ice skating?”

Harry nods slowly. “Why do you keep repeating that? What’s wrong with ice skating?”

“ _Why_?” 

“Do you not like ice skating?” Harry asks.

“I’ve never been,” Louis admits.

“Oh,” Harry says, blinking in surprise. “Is that one of the weird things you’re not allowed to do?”

“First of all, most of the weird things I’m not allowed to do have reasons,” Louis counters. “I’m allowed to go ice skating. I’ve just never been.”

“Alright, it’s settled.” Harry stands from his couch, extending a hand down to help Louis up. “First, we’re going to bundle you up in some warmer clothes. And then we’re going to head to my favorite skating rink. We can get hot chocolate if you’re good.”

“Maybe I don’t want hot chocolate,” Louis mumbles, but he takes Harry’s hand and allows himself to be led down the hallway to Harry’s bedroom. 

With how much time he’s spent here over the past few weeks, Louis can definitely get himself there. But it’s nice to hold Harry’s hand.

Harry bundles him in a scarf, hat, and mittens before finally deeming him bundled up enough to go the skating rink. Harry offers to drive and Louis doesn’t protest. After having been driven around for most of his life, he’s pretty used to it. 

Harry takes them to a part of the city that Louis doesn’t think he’s ever been to. Impressed, he takes in the scenery. There are twinkling lights hung up on almost every building and wrapped around every lampost lining the sidewalks. This part of the city seems older - although the whole city is old, technically - but more like they’ve embraced the aging instead of trying to upgrade.

“Are we still in London?” Louis teases as Harry pulls into a parking spot. He spots two kids running down the sidewalk away from their mother, who’s laughing as she chases them. 

“Yes, if you’d believe,” Harry says. “This is one of my favorite places in the whole world. Nobody really knows about this little neighborhood, so nobody comes here. I think in all the years I’ve come here, I’ve been recognized maybe once or twice.”

“Maybe you’re just not as famous as you thought you were.”

Harry snorts. “That is possible. I’ve got a big head.”

“Good thing I’m here to bring you back down to Earth.” Louis reaches across the console and ruffles Harry’s curls. 

Harry gets a look on his face, one Louis can’t quite place, but seems almost sad. He hesitates before saying, “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

And Louis really wishes he wouldn’t say things like that. Say things to remind them that this can’t be forever. That this isn’t a sustainable way to be in a relationship. 

“I can see on your face that maybe I shouldn’t have said it, but I couldn’t stop myself,” he says. “If I can’t do it, I want you to know that’s what I would do. If things were different. If we were different people.”

“But we’re not different people, so I guess we should get to skating.” Louis gives him a small smile and jumps from the car. 

Harry leads the way to the skate rental and while he pays, Louis observes the scene around them. He’s always on edge when in a public space, despite the numerous guards posted around them. To the untrained eye, his guards may just appear to be men enjoying their day, but Louis knows better. Just another reminder of the normal life he doesn’t live.

“Ready?”

Louis looks away from one of his guards drinking hot chocolate on a bench to see Harry trying to get his attention, two pairs of skates in his hands. 

“Curly, do not let me break my ankle or I will kill you,” is all Louis says before he grabs the smaller pair.

Louis manages to pick up ice skating pretty quickly, much to Harry’s dismay.

“I expected you to fall at least once,” he says with a pout.

“Just because you have the balance of a newborn deer doesn’t mean that I do,” Louis teases. “Some of us have grace.”

“I’ll find something you’re bad at, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry vows, faux-seriousness written on his face. “Maybe not in this lifetime, but surely in the next.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Why do I like you?”

“My charming good looks and my charming good looks only.”

Louis reaches out a hand and tries to knock him off balance, pushing his hand into Harry’s shoulder. He does lose his balance, but unfortunately for Louis, Harry thinks quickly and grabs on to Louis’ wrist and pulls them both down.

Louis hits the ice straight on his arse, yelping once he feels the cold seep through the denim of his jeans. 

Someone skates up to them. Louis looks up at them, and the outreached hand, and sees it’s one of his favorite guards (besides Liam). 

“Y’alright?” he asks. He doesn’t even bother reaching to help Harry up, who does struggle a bit to clamber to his feet. Truly a newborn deer, Louis thinks to himself.

He takes the hand extended and pulls himself to his feet. He wobbles for a moment before regaining his balance. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” he says. He attempts to dust himself off, but there’s nothing really to wipe away. His arse is just going to be soaking wet. And cold. Very cold, he realizes as the wind blows. “I think we’re probably going to grab hot chocolate and head out soon.”

The guard nods and skates away without another word.

“Things like that remind me how not normal you are,” Harry says. “Do you think they’d attack me if I tried to hold your hand?”

Louis shakes his head. “No, but I’d break your fingers.”

Harry laughs like he doesn’t think it’s true. “Hot chocolate time?”

“Hot chocolate time,” Louis agrees. 

* * *

“Saw some cute photos of you ice skating with Harry,” Liam says. “And some fun photos of you on the ice, looking like a perfectly disgruntled hedgehog.”

“I don’t look like a hedgehog,” Louis huffs. 

“Up for debate.”

Louis uses his piece to jump over Liam’s and then remove it from the board. Checkers isn’t the most glamorous of games, but it’s _tradition_. It’s their go to game ever since Louis showed up at Liam’s in the middle of the night, in desperate need of a friend, and it was the only game Liam had in the closet. They’ve since expanded his collection, but playing it feels right.

“So are you gonna give me any details?” Liam prompts. 

“Like what kind of details?”

“This is like pulling teeth.” Liam removes two of Louis’ pieces from the board.

“He’s good in bed,” Louis says. “Leaves me very satisfied.”

“I should kick your ass,” Liam laughs. “Good for you, I guess.”

“He makes me happy, Li. Is that what you want to hear?” Louis’ only got three pieces left on the board. He knows his time is up. He’s not winning this one. “He makes me happy and our time together has an expiration date.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Liam says. “I think you think it would be worse than it actually will be. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, but it’s not true.” Louis has lost. One piece left and he can make no moves. He sighs in defeat and leans back in his chair. “There’s no scenario in the current timeline where we could publicly be together. And if we can never publicly be together, that’s no life for him to live.”

“No life for you to live, either,” Liam points out. He begins packing up the checker board. “So why get involved at all?”

Louis shrugs. “I like the pain.”

“I don’t think you’d get involved if there was no chance that it could happen ever. Otherwise you’d set you both free, I think.”

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me,” Louis says with a huff. “That’s not what I pay you for.”

Liam just hums and closes the box. “Your phone’s buzzed. Do you have Harry’s tweet notifications on?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis says, reaching out and checking his screen. Sure enough, Harry’s tweeted. 

“ _Should I watch Bob’s Burgers_?”

“It’s three in the morning in Los Angeles right now, and this man is tweeting about a cartoon,” Louis says, wrinkling his eyebrows. “I’m not convinced he ever really sleeps, actually. He’s, like, always answering my text messages.”

“Maybe he only sleeps when you sleep,” Liam says. “Like your brains are connected.”

“Don’t be weird.”

Louis doesn’t even think before replying to Harry’s tweet.

“ _Go to bed._ ”

He’s barely sent the tweet before his phone is ringing in his hand, one of Harry’s dumb selfies lighting up the screen. Louis wishes his face didn’t break into a smile, but it does. Harry just has that affect on him. 

“Maybe I already did sleep and now I’m awake for the night,” Harry says instead of a _normal_ greeting. “Did you think about that?”

“No because it’s not possible,” Louis argues. “You were awake three hours ago, blowing up my phone. So explain to me how you could have slept. When?”

“You got me.” Louis doesn’t even have to be with him to know he’s probably shrugging and saying something stupid. “You know what would help me sleep?”

“Don’t say an orgasm,” Louis warns.

“An orgasm.”

Liam wrinkles his nose across the table.

“I’m with Liam and I’m sure he would love to help you out with that,” Louis says. 

“Ah, as hot as Liam is, I think I may have to pass on that one. I’ll just have to use my imagination.”

“I guess you’ll have to,” Louis agrees. “And go to bed. You’re grumpy when you don’t get at least seven consequentive hours.”

“Hmm, you’re right,” Harry says with a hum. “Unfortunately, I have to be awake in four hours, so it seems that ship has sailed. Will send grumpy photos to you all day tomorrow. Or, I guess today. If you want to be technical.”

“Go to sleep, Curly,” Louis says, but he’s laughing and he thinks he could listen to Harry ramble for days. 

Harry mumbles some sort of goodbye, and Louis expects he’s probably already half asleep by the end of his sentence. After hanging up, Louis pointedly does not look in Liam’s direction.

“Louis.”

He looks up, eyebrow quirked. He’s going to play innocent.

“You think you’re going to be able to end things easily? You think you can end things at all?”

“Sure,” Louis says. “It has to end eventually, and I’ll be able to do it when the time comes.”

“I love you-” Louis can hear the ‘but’ coming, “-but you’re a fucking idiot.”

* * *

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Louis asks for what feels like the sixteenth time in ten minutes. “We can leave right now. We can fly to Japan.”

“Louis, darling, angel, sweet creature-”

“Sweet creature?” Louis wrinkles his nose.

“Wait until you hear this great song I wrote about you,” Harry says and he winks, but Louis doesn’t think he’s kidding.

“We’re going to be talking about this ‘sweet creature’ thing. Another time. Right now we’re going to focus on our escape.”

“We don’t need to escape.” Harry stops Louis by grabbing his wrist. He places his hands on Louis’ shoulders and looks into his eyes. “Louis. I am meeting your mother.”

“You’re meeting the Queen of England.”

“It’s easier when you phrase it like that. Does she know we’re dating?”

Louis sighs, frustrated. Harry meeting his mum is absolutely the opposite of keeping things from getting complicated. 

“How did I get into this mess? Of course she does.” 

Harry smirks. “You chose this mess. Now, lead the way. I would love to meet your mum. But wait. Question.”

“Yes?” Louis is willing to stand here and answer his questions all day as long as it stalls them from going in. 

“Am I supposed to call her ‘Your Majesty?’” Harry asks, eyes wide. 

“Yes.” 

“You’re not taking the piss?”

“Harry.” Louis makes sure he keeps his eyes wide, hoping to portray sincereity in his expression and voice. “I promise you that you have to address her that way until further notice. I would let you embarrass yourself in front of the _Queen of England_.”

Harry lets out a sigh of relief. “Alright, not nervous any longer.”

“I cannot _stand_ you.”

Of course, Harry charms his mother. Of _course_.

“How do you make everyone fall in love with you?” Louis asks. 

Harry crosses his arms and leans back against the driver’s side of his car. “Not everyone.”

“Name one person who isn’t head over heels for you.”

“Are you?” Harry raises an eyebrow. Louis suddenly feels that he needs to be anywhere else besides here.

“If I was I’d never tell you,” Louis says, and hopes that’s enough of an answer. He tries not to think about their expiration date. The expiration date that is approaching very quickly. 

“You don’t have to yet,” Harry says. He kicks at the ground with his stupid Chelsea boot that’s all but taped together. Louis keeps telling him to buy a new pair, but Harry just can’t give them up. It’s very much Harry-like to not be able to throw away things that are practically useless at their function for sentimental value. Louis kind of envies that about him.

“What if it really is never?” 

“I try not to think about it,” Harry answers, and it’s raw and honest and Louis feels the burn of tears in his eyes. They both know that this can’t end anyway except in flames. 

“When this is all said and done, should I sell your dirty secrets to the gossip rags?” Louis jokes, doing his best to try and lighten the mood. 

“I would expect nothing less.” Harry uncrosses his arms and reaches out for Louis, grabbing him by a beltloop and pulling him in. “Just a kiss before I go?”

“One kiss,” Louis agrees. 

One kiss with Harry is never one kiss. It’s one and then two and then three and then it’s not knowing how long you’ve been standing there making out and who could have seen you and not really caring all at the same time. It’s pulling back just enough to breathe but your breath is still intermingling, warm against your face. 

One kiss with Harry is never enough.

“You should go,” Louis whispers. 

Harry nods, but doesn’t make any effort to move. “I should go.”

“I’m not inviting you back inside.”

“I’m going.” And this time he does pull away, giving one last squeeze to Louis’ waist and climbing into his car. He drives away without looking back, and for some reason Louis thinks ‘ _and one day he’ll drive away for the last time_ ’ and he can’t help the hot tears that roll down his cheeks. They’ve been outside so long that he’s gone all but numb from the cold and his tears burn his cheeks, but he can’t make himself go inside quite yet. He needs to be alone for a little longer before he goes in to face the music.

Finally, Liam taps him on the shoulder.

“Mate, it’s freezing. Come inside.”

Louis nods and follows him in wordlessly.

“Your mum wants to see you,” Liam says, leading the way through the halls before coming to the library. “I’m heading out for the night, but you’re welcome to come over later if you want.”

“Thanks, mate.” Louis throws him a grateful smile before entering the room and joining his mother on one of the couches in the middle of the room. “You adored him.”

“I did,” she agrees. She bookmarks the book she’s reading and sets it on the coffee table. “You love him.”

“I guess the Tomlinsons are no match for Harry Styles,” Louis jokes. 

“Definitely not. He’s quite the charmer,” she says. Her face turns serious. “Are you being careful?”

“Yes, mum, I’m using protection.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not what I meant, Boobear. You’re a funny guy, but humor can only protect you for so long.”

“Ooh, coming in hot tonight.”

“Taking no survivors.”

He laughs quietly. “I am being careful. We mostly hang out at his place and it’s very secluded.”

“Also not what I meant,” she says.

He cocks his head, puzzled. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant careful with yourself,” she says. “You’re so in love, but Liam says you keep talking about an ‘expiration date.’ What do you mean?”

“Well, obviously this has to end,” he explains. “And it’s better if we do it sooner rather than later. Less pain that way.”

“And why does this have to end?” she asks. “I’m not sure I’m understanding your thinking.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “You know. Because obviously I’ll have to marry a woman.”

“Do you?”

“I thought so,” he says, sincere. He’s never believed otherwise. He always thought he would marry a woman and have a child and he would live his life that way. No one ever told him anything different. Then again, no one ever really told him that either.

“Boo, you don’t have to marry a woman if you don’t want to. Sure, it’ll be a scandal, but I would back you one-hundred percent.”

“The public already speculates,” Louis laughs dryly. 

“Speculating is different than confirmation.”

“I don’t know if that’s helpful,” he says. “So what should I do?”

“Have you talked to Harry?” she asks, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I probably should.”

“Tomorrow, boo. Tonight you should get some sleep. Stay here?”

He nods and leans over, his head landing on her shoulder. She doesn’t hesitate to run her fingers through his hair. 

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” he promises.

* * *

“So your mom wants you to come out?”

Louis nods. He takes another sip of his tea, but winces. It’s gone cold. Maybe if he bats his eyelashes enough, Harry will make him another cup.

“Yeah, she said she’d support me,” he says. “She just wants me to be happy. So. I’m thinking about it.”

“Lou, that’s great,” Harry says, breathless. 

“But I wanted to talk to you.”

“Sounds ominous. Go on.” Harry takes a sip of his own cup, and Louis watches his face scrunch in disgust. “Cold. Want another cup?”

“Yes, please.” Louis pushes his cup across the worn table. “I just wanted to make sure you were on board. Like. If I come out, you can stay in the shadows, but people are going to speculate. Or you can be by my side when I do it. Or you can call it quits right now. Anything you choose, I won’t hold against you. This is not an easy task, and I get if this isn’t what you want.”

“Lou.” Harry’s face softens and he places the empty teacups on the counter, pausing the task at hand. He comes back over to the table and sits in the chair directly next to Louis. Harry grabs his hands and squeezes. “I knew that dating the Prince of Wales was not going to be an easy task. First of all, you’re a cheeky bastard. Second, we were either going to stay a secret forever, break up, or cause a national scandal.”

“Causing a national scandal sounds kind of sexy,” Louis jokes.

Harry leans in and kisses his forehead. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. I’ll be here by your side for all of it. Or not, if that’s what you want. If you want to do this alone, I will not push you. This is your decision.”

“It affects you too,” Louis points out. “But I want you by my side, if you’ll be there.”

“Of course, Lou.” He kisses Louis’ forehead again and then stands, crossing the room in two steps and grabbing their teacups. “Now, back to the important things.”

Louis doesn’t want to leave. Harry’s home is warm and inviting and comfortable and his favorite bubble. Leaving means figuring out how to come out. Leaving means facing the real world. Leaving means he’s the Prince of Wales again.

“One kiss?” Harry asks, leaning against the doorway of his front entryway. “Just a kiss.”

Louis rolls his eyes and leans in without even thinking. He pecks Harry swiftly on the lips and pulls away. “One kiss.”

He turns and leaves, promising to call later that night after talking with his publicity team. 

* * *

One kiss with Harry is never just one kiss.

Liam shows him news articles and gossip rags and twitter threads.

“I thought you said Harry’s place was private,” Liam says. He doesn’t sound angry. “If I had known people could so easily see what was happening, I would have insisted on more security.”

“Not the point here, Liam.” 

Louis stares at the picture printed on the front page of every newssite currently. Him. Outside of Harry’s. Harry. In the front entryway. Lips locked. Fingers intertwined. Harry’s other hand on his hip. Louis’ fingers in Harry’s hair. 

“This could very obviously be someone else.”

“Yeah, it could be,” Louis says, “except that the next four shots are me turning away with the dopiest look on my fucking face and getting into my car.”

Liam sighs, rubbing at his temples. “What did your mum say?”

“She said that she wasn’t going to make any decisions about this for me.”

“And what did Lisa from publicity say?”

“She said that I was going to need to make a statement.” Louis squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the skin on his arm, hoping this was all just a dream (a nightmare, his brain corrects). Unfortunately the picture is still there when he opens his eyes. “She said she’d prepare one for me if I wanted.”

“And what did you say?”

“That I didn’t want that.”

Liam nods. “I didn’t think you would.”

“It’s just.” Louis sighs. “This isn’t how I would have wanted to do this.”

“Did you want to do this? Come out?” Liam asks. 

Louis feels tears in his eyes. He’s not going to be able to hold it together. Liam reaches over the table and squeezes his hand, and the first of Louis’ tears fall.

“I think so,” he says. “It’s just. I spent so long thinking I was going to hide this part of myself for the rest of my life. That I would marry a woman. That the world would never know the truth. I lived with those thoughts for so long, and I had _just_ come around to the idea that maybe that wasn’t going to be true. I could come out and be happy and be myself. I didn’t know it would be so _soon_.”

Liam squeezes his hand again. “Have you talked to Harry?”

Louis shakes his head. “No, not yet. He left me a message. He said to call him back when I could.”

“Louis. Call him.”

He bites his lip. “I don’t know if I can right now.”

Liam purses his lips before sighing heavily. He lets go of Louis’ hand and stands up. 

“Get up,” he says.

Louis just stares at him.

“Get up,” Liam repeats.

Louis does it, but he doesn’t know why. “What is wrong with you?”

“We’re going to Harry’s.”

“Why?” Still, Louis follows him to the front door, taking the coat Liam hands him and slipping it over his shoulders.

“Because you’ll never call him. I know you, Louis. I’ve known you for years. This is the only way to get you to do anything.”

“So you’re driving me to Harry’s.” It’s a statement, not a question. Louis shakes his head. “And what do I say to him?”

“Whatever you want. Whatever comes out.” Liam opens the door and gestures for Louis to walk. “But I’m not going to let you ruin this.”

Liam drives to Harry’s house, silent the whole way. Louis thinks about what he’s going to say, but keeps coming up blank. What is there to say? Should he apologize? 

Too soon, they’re in Harry’s driveway, and he’s standing in the front entryway, face unreadable.

Louis climbs out of the car and walks on autopilot to the front door. Liam stays in the car, and Louis honestly expects him to leave as soon as he’s inside.

Approaching the front door, he still can’t read Harry’s expression. He moves to the side to let Louis in, and then shuts the front door behind him. Louis goes to speak, but finds himself cut off when Harry pushes him against the nearest wall and slots their lips together.

Louis kisses back, unable to help himself, reaching up to tangle his fingers into Harry’s hair and pulling before he realizes that they should probably talk first. 

He pulls away, out of breath. “We should talk.”

Harry nods. “Talking is good.” He makes no effort to move.

“Harry, you have to move,” Louis says.

“Right.” Another second delay, but Harry is backing away, adjusting himself in his pants, and spinning to walk down the hallway. Louis watches for a second before realizing he should probably follow. 

Harry takes a seat on the worn couch, tucking his feet under himself. Louis has no idea how he sits like that and how he could be comfortable, but this is neither the time nor the place.

“How are you?” Harry asks once they’re both seated. “I know this is probably a lot.”

“I love you,” Louis blurts instead.

And okay. Not what he was going to say.

Harry blinks like he hadn’t been expecting it either.

“I love you, too.”

Louis isn’t too sure what to say next. “Okay, that’s um. Yeah. That’s. Cool.”

Harry smiles brightly and Louis almost feels like he needs to look away. 

“It’s nice to say it,” Harry says. “Now. Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Louis says, and it’s the truth. Liam was right. He just needed to talk to Harry. “I was freaking out, but being here makes me realize that I don’t need to freak out. Why was I freaking out?”

“National scandal,” Harry supplies. 

“Right. National scandal.” Before, those same words might have scared him, but now he lets out a laugh. “It hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be.”

“I know a bunch of old tits are definitely losing their minds,” Harry says. “But other than that, it’s been very supportive.”

“Yeah.” Louis shrugs. “Not sure what I was worried about for all those years.”

“Coming out is hard when you’re a normal person, let alone the Prince of Wales.” Harry’s right, but Louis still feels like he was freaking out for nothing (even though he knows there’s a long road ahead of them).

“So.” Louis wipes his sweaty palms on his sweatpants, the same ones he wore the first time he ever came over to Harry’s place. “Where do we go from here?”

* * *

“You’re wearing a fun tie,” Liam says. “Wait. Did you steal one of my ties?”

Louis shrugs as he fastens the knot. “I like squirrels.”

Liam goes to say something, probably something dumb, but Lisa comes in, clipboard in hand. “Ready for your briefing?”

“No,” Louis answers honestly. “But that’s not going to stop you.”

“Correct.” Lisa begins reading over her papers, things to bring up and the right way to phrase things and how best to keep from offending anyone. He doesn’t listen. People are going to be offended either way. “-and Harry Styles-”

“Harry Styles?” He perks up at that. “Who invited him?”

“You did,” she says with an eyeroll. “Literally he’s the first person you put on the list to get a pass.”

“Right.” He nods. That does sound like something he probably did. 

“You also publicly invited him on Twitter.” She taps her pen against the clipboard. “Did you listen to anything else I said?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. Good luck.” She looks like she means the exact opposite. Louis hopes, for her sake, that she gets promoted soon. Lisa cannot handle another year of him before she either shaves his head or her own. 

“Thanks, Lisa,” he says, waving at her as she leaves. She doesn’t even bother faking a smile for him.

“She really hates you,” a deep voice whispers in his ear. It sends shiver down his spine. 

Louis spins around to see Harry there, dressed neatly in a brown suit with a silky, cream button up underneath. Of course, half the buttons are undone, but he looks nice. 

“I wish you could be out there with me,” Louis says, pouting. 

“We know that wouldn’t work. We’d never answer a question.”

Louis throws his head back and laughs, some of his nerves dissipating the longer they stand there together. 

“Who would have that we’d be here right now?” Louis asks. “From Twitter DM’s to this.”

“The love story of the century.”

Someone calls for Louis, yelling at him that they’re set to start in two minutes, and Louis’ nerves come back in full force.

“You’ve got this,” Harry says earnestly. He takes both of Louis’ hands in his own. 

“Yeah, sure. Easy for you to say. I’m the one about to go in front of the world and tell my coming out story. Bit scary if you think about it.”

“So don’t think about it.” Harry’s mouth quirks into a smirk. “A kiss?”

“One kiss,” Louis resigns. He leans in for a chaste kiss, hyper aware of their audience. He pulls away with a sigh, someone yelling from across the room that it’s forty-five seconds until go time. “See you on the other side.”

He’s thrown onto the couch, hair and makeup retouched, all before the countdown ends. The lights are blinding, but it’s nothing he isn’t used to. The red recording sign lights up, and suddenly his nerves are gone. He can do interviews. 

“Lou, you were fantastic,” Harry says, beaming from ear to ear. Louis isn’t sure he remembers anything from the past hour. It’s a total black out in his memory. 

“It feels like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders,” he says, mouth moving before his brain can stop it. “It feels like I’d been holding my breath for so long, and finally I can breathe again. Is that stupid?”

“Not stupid.” Harry shakes his head. “A kiss?”

“One kiss,” Louis agrees. He leans in and the world melts away. He pulls back, smile matching Harry’s own. “Do you want to go ice skating?”

“Will you let me hold your hand?” Harry counters.

“I’d be mad if you didn’t.”

“Then yes.”

It feels anticlimactic, especially for the way Louis had built it up in his head, but it makes sense that coming out feels easier with Harry by his side. Harry makes everything feel easier. He doesn’t downplay it, but he makes it feel like it’s manageable. They’ll get through it.

“Can I borrow a pair of mittens?”

Harry pulls an extra pair from his coat pocket, grin threatening to split his face. 

Louis loves him.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed, didn't enjoy, just want a friend - feel free to reach out on [tumblr!](https://adoredontour.tumblr.com)  
> also here's the [fic post :)](https://adoredontour.tumblr.com/post/613136466339594240/i-hope-that-you-wont-slip-away-in-the-night-by)


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